Transplantations
by Meredith T. Tasaki
Summary: Stories wherein characters from other universes are integrated into the FMA universe. Ch.6 Roy is sent on an important diplomatic mission... with a highly qualified foreign ambassador who thinks his name is Gerald.
1. Kaho Mitsuki

Transplantations, Story 1

Rating: PG-13, only for the language; could probably pass for PG

Disclaimer: Kaho Mitsuki is CLAMP's. The FMA characters are similarly not mine. Who woulda guessed?

Series Summary: Stories wherein characters from other universes are integrated into the FMA universe.

Chapter Summary: Colonel Kaho Mitsuki. Everyone loves her. Except Roy Mustang...

Notes: Evidently I think it's fun to find someone who just bugs the heck out of Roy... Knowledge of Card Captor Sakura would be helpful, but my goal is for it to not be absolutely necessary. How well I'll succeed at that, I don't know... But the only background you might need is that Kaho Mitsuki is psychic. And provokes strong reactions in people. Though all that's implied in the fic...

(-)

1. Kaho Mitsuki

(-)

"So. You've been transferred here."

"Yes," Col. Mitsuki said cheerfully.

"Wonderful," Roy muttered. "You're going to say you predicted this, right?"

"I did tell you that our paths would cross again--"

"Wow, THAT was out of left field. Never could've predicted that one. I have a question: when do you leave?"

Col. Mitsuki chuckled. "I've always found it amusing that I seem to be the one woman on base that you don't like."

"And I seem to be the only person on the base who doesn't like you. Yes, it is strange. I seem to be the only discerning person on base."

"Colonel Mustang?" Hawkeye walked in, and stopped in her tracks when she saw the willowy colonel stanging in the center of the room. "Colonel Mitsuki! I didn't know you'd been transferred here!"

"I don't think I'll be able to stay for long," Col. Mitsuki said, with her perpetual warm smile.

"Oh, THAT prediction took precognitive ability," Roy muttered.

"Well, we'll have to catch up tonight, then. I know this place--"

"I'll meet you after work," Mitsuki said. "You'll have to lead the way."

"Of course..."

Roy let his head bang on the desk, amazed and infuriated that a sensible woman like Hawkeye wouldn't be able to see through this damn charlatan's machinations.

"Colonel Mustang," Hawkeye said, and snaped a salute. "Edward's here to see you, sir."

"Wonderful," Roy sighed. "Bring him in."

"So, how're you plotting to get me killed THIS-- who're you?" Ed blinked at Col. Mitsuki.

"Colonel Kaho Mitsuki," she said, and put out a hand. "I've been transferred here, but I'm afraid I won't be staying for long. Your commanding officer hates me."

"THAT took a psychic," Roy muttered.

"Huh," Ed said. "Too bad. I'm Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist. And this is my brother Al."

"I've heard of you two," she said. "You must be very proud of your older brother, Al. You'll have a long shadow to find your way out of, but I'm sure you'll be all right."

Roy almost moaned in irritation as he could practically see her little spell taking effect on the two entranced boys. How had the old wench known their weak points!

"Thanks!" Al said.

"Huh," Ed said, with a surprised half-smile. "I thought all colonels were assholes."

Roy cleared his throat. "If you'll recall, I have a new assignment for you, Fullmetal..."

"Arrgh." Ed stomped up and snatched the file out of his hand. "Ceralyn? Hell'm I going there for?"

"A rumor of a Stone there, what else?"

"Ah come on, I can tell from this the guy's a con man..."

"If you could," Roy said sweetly, "why would I be sending you?"

"'Cause you're a sadistic bastard?" Ed suggested.

Roy rolled his eyes. "Why I let you question orders like this I don't know."

"--Oh God, AKERS is stationed there! God, no! I'm not going!"

"Fullmetal--"

"I'm serious! I hate Akers!"

"Which is why he wants you to go," Col. Mitsuki said serenely.

Ed's head snapped around. Roy almost snapped himself.

"You see, he needs you to cause trouble for Akers so he'll be focused on other things for a while," Mistuki said, still with that perpetual warm smile that completely pissed Roy off. "With Akers distracted by the scandals, paperwork, and twelve kinds of frustration that you will inevitably cause, certain... projects of Roy's are much likely to go unnoticed. This isn't entirely frivolous. Will you go?"

Ed blinked and smiled at her sweetly. "Ma'am, yes, ma'am!" He snapped her a salute. "Will there be anything else, Col. Mitsuki?"

"No, Fullmetal. You and your brother have a nice trip, okay?"

"Ma'am, yes, ma'am!" Ed snaped her another salute, threw a smug smile at Mustang, and marched out the door.

The silence was broken by the steady thumping of Roy's head against his desk. Col. Mitsuki waited three seconds for him to realize he was doing it, stop, and say something.

"...You do realize he's only obeying you to spite me," he said.

"Partly, yes," she said, turning that unbearable smile on him again. "But partly he's trying to persuade you to act the same way. He really would be so much more tractable if you'd just tell him a few things. Treat him with a little more respect."

"...Get the hell out of my office."

"I'll see you at the meeting this afternoon," she said, and exited.

Roy knew there was no meeting scheduled for that afternoon, but with that woman's damnable luck, there no doubt would be.

He sighed and, for once, hoped that her prediction of not staying long would come true.

-

"Col. Mitsuki!"

Roy nearly hurt himself trying to restrain his fury as Ed walked into the room. Kaho Mitsuki was, of course, there. Ed was, of course, actually on time with his mission report for possibly the first time ever. And, knowing his secret objectives, Ed had, of course, accomplished them all perfectly, maybe even better than usual, because God obviously hated Flame Alchemists and Kaho Mitsuki was the simpering, damnably serene angel of his wrath.

"My report," Ed said, and threw it on his desk.

"I already know what's in it," Roy said, his head in his hands. "You don't have to tell me."

Ed blinked rapidly and looked at Col. Mitsuki.

She shrugged, still smiling serenely. "I tend to provoke strong reactions in people."

"Evidently," Ed said.

"But like I was about to tell Col. Mustang, I have news. I'm being transferred again."

Roy's head snapped up, giving him no time or inclination to hide the smile of joy that spread across his face.

"Aw, man!" Ed cried. "Who the hell decided that!"

She just kept smiling, a little more softly, and got down to his level. "But there's something I wanted to tell you, before I have to go. Something you may someday find useful."

Roy rolled his eyes.

"Do you know how to get out of a maze? This kind of thing comes up."

Ed blinked. "Uh, something about keeping one hand on a wall?"

"But that only works if all the walls are connected," Al noted, equally puzzled.

"True," she said. "But remember: the best way to get out of a maze... is to break down the walls."

A slow, delighted grin came over Ed's face as he processed this.

"Good luck," she said, ruffling his hair as she got up. "You'll find what you're looking for... but not today."

"Madame Sibyl," Roy muttered.

"Goodbye, Mustang!" She waved cheerfully and left. Ed snapped her a salute as she went.

"FINALLY," Roy sighed.

"The hell is your problem with her, anyway?" Ed snapped.

"She-- thinks she knows everything-- she's so damn--uh--" Roy paused.

"You know, come to think of it, I'm not entirely sure..."

"Useless wench," Ed muttered.

(-)


	2. Luna

Transplantations, Story 2

Rating: PG-13, language and accidental crossdressing

Disclaimer: Luna belongs to Takeuchi Naoko-san. And a vast number of other people, all of whom aren't me. Same goes with everyone else in the story: not mine. No surprise there.

Series Summary: Stories wherein characters from other universes are integrated into the FMA universe.

Chapter Summary: Al brings home a talking cat. Which is okay, until she mistakes Ed for someone she knows...

Notes: When reading a fic (that shall go unnamed-- don't remember it by now anyway) that brought a few sci-fi-ish cliches to the mix, this abomination came into my mind... should the day ever come when anime characters really can interact with fic authors, Edward Elric is going to kill me slowly... I guess my only hope'll be that I'll be too far down his list...

No knowledge of Sailor Moon really necessary, though, of course, it helps. All you need to know is that Luna is a talking cat looking for the hidden warrior girls who can fight an evil kingdom... and that said warrior-girls wear very interesting costumes... but that's given in the fic.

Also, can anyone tell me if replacing a story with a new file erases one's reviews? 'Cause if it doesn't, I have a few fics I want to replace with files in formats doesn't totally mangle...

(-)

2. Luna

(-)

Ed looked up from his book at the sudden scrabbling noise, something that sounded quite a lot like claws on metal.

"Kitten or puppy?" he asked, eyes not leaving the wall straight ahead of him.

"But it was so _cute_!" Al cried defensively. "It has a little crescent moon shape on its forehead and I think it talks."

"Talks?"

"Talks. Really. See?"

Ed turned around and saw that Al was holding out a very irritated-looking gray-black cat, with a moon-shape on its forehead and almost _embarassed_ crimson eyes. "It's a cat."

"And it talks."

"Cats don't talk."

"This one does."

"Even _chimerae_ almost never talk."

"Chimerae!" the cat shrieked in indignation.

Ed stared at the cat. The cat stared back, then twitched suddenly. "Meow," it said, quite deliberately.

"...It's a cat that talks," Ed said.

"I told you so."

"Sorry I didn't believe you, but it sounded really untrue."

"That's okay, I understand."

"Sorry for comparing you to a chimera," Ed told the cat.

"Meow," said the cat.

Ed rolled his eyes. "Give it up, it's too late now."

The cat sighed. "Yes, I suppose it is. Thank you for helping me. Alphonse, is it?"

"Yes!" Al said, delighted. "What's your name?"

"Luna," the cat sighed. "I really don't know when I became so transparent. Usually I'm so good at hiding."

"Al's observant," Ed said. "So why can you talk?"

"I am very, very lost," the cat said. "I don't know what's happened. I'm supposed to be looking for..."

"Looking for?" Ed prompted.

"The princess of my land," the cat said, "and also my land's defenders. But I think somehow I've gotten to entirely the wrong place."

"Okaaay," Ed said.

"This sounds like those girls' comics you were reading," Al commented.

Ed blushed furiously. "Shut up! They were mislabeled!"

"Which explains how you found them, not why you kept reading them."

"Grrr..." Ed blushed hotly. Luna blinked at him thoughtfully.

"You know... could you do me a favor?"

Ed blinked. "Maybe..."

Luna squirmed out of Al's hands and executed a rather impressive backflip, producing a strange brooch out of thin air.

"What in the!" Ed cried. He grabbed the strange round thing, wondering if this talking cat, of all things, could possibly possess the secret of the Philosopher's Stone.

"Could you possibly just hold that up and say 'Moon Prism Power'?" the cat asked hopefully.

"What? Why?" Ed asked, suspiciously.

"Just in case."

"In case of _what_?"

"Nii-san," Al said, "It couldn't possibly hurt. Just say it."

"Say what? 'Moon Prism Power'?"

There was a strange flash of light.

"Nii-san!" Al cried.

A second later, his brother came back into view. Arm raised in a salute. Hair done into round buns on either side of his head, with short tails hanging down from both. A gold tiara with a red gem in the middle on his head. Wearing a choker and pearl earrings with dangling gold crescent moons. And long, white gloves. And a tight-fitting sailor suit with the tiniest miniskirt that Al had ever seen. Topped off with knee-high, high-heeled red boots.

Ed looked down at himself, and Al clapped his hands over the cat's ears. This didn't help much when Ed let out an unholy high screech from deep within the pits of hell itself.

"WHAT THE ------- HELL DID YOU DO TO ME?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" the cat cried, leaping behind the nearest piece of furniture. "I didn't think it would actually work!"

"UNDO THIS NOW!"

"Edward!" There was a pounding on the door and Ed screamed again in panic. "What's happening!"

"NOTHING!" Ed screamed, ducking behind a bed. "GO AWAY, GO AWAY!"

"We're coming in there!"

Ed screamed again and scrambled below the bed.

The door crashed open. "Al! What's happened!"

"Nothing, nothing!" Al said quickly, holding up his hands.

"Your brother deafened us for nothing?"

"Screamed like a woman," someone muttered.

"I'M NOT A WOMAN!" Ed screamed from below the bed. "Tell the cat that!"

"...It's a... really long story," Al said.

Luna decided that this would probably be an excellent time to slip away before the young alchemist could brutally kill her. Unfortunately, Ed spotted her as she tried to slip out the door.

"OH DON'T YOU DARE!"

Ed leaped out from underneath the bed and pounced on the cat, throttling it. "YOU'RE NOT GETTING AWAY THAT EASY!"

"Nii-san..."

Ed paused for a very long moment as the reality of what he'd just done sank in, and closed his eyes in abject horror.

"What the HELL!"

Ed chose the only option left to him and leaped out of the window. Which had not been open at the time.

"NII-SAN!" Al cried, running to the window. His brother had already run away.

"CHANGE ME BACK!" his voice echoed through half the town.

"I-YAOW-YAOW-WAOW!" Luna cried helplessly as she was shaken by the throat.

Al turned around and looked at the crowd that was staring at him.

"Uh, you see, there's really a completely reasonable explanation for all of this," he said, shuffling his feet.

They stared at him.

"...Okay, there really, really isn't. But there is a completely unreasonable explanation for this."

They stared at him.

"And I will give it to you."

They stared at him.

"Later," Al said, finishing the array he'd scratched onto the floor and dropping through.

-

"I can never set foot--_ anywhere_-- again."

At Al's insistence Ed had refrained from killing Luna after the cat had explained to him how to change back. Wisely, the cat had run away as quickly as possible, leaving Ed's homicidal (felicidal?) feelings to be diverted into other channels.

"That's silly," Al lied. "No one will remember."

"Never. I'll just have to-- live in a closet, on the other side of the world, and just never come out."

"Nii-san."

"My life is over. I might as well just go on and die now."

"Nii-san! Don't even joke about that!"

"Who said I was joking?"

"Look. They won't say anything. They're scared of you."

"No they're not."

"Then you'll _make_ them scared of you. I can't believe I'm saying this, but-- don't be sad! Divert this embarassment into paranoid, homicidal rage like you usually do!"

Ed glared at him.

"You must admit I've got a point."

"You do realize I'll have to murder Mustang."

"Nii-san..."

"I'll go to jail for that."

"You won't have to murder Col. Mustang."

"Write down the date and time you said that."

"Please don't kill Col. Mustang."

"I'm not gonna have a choice about it, Al."

"You will so."

"Oh yeah? Watch. Just watch as I go into that smirky bastard's office tomorrow..."

Al had, at least, gotten Ed away from the idea of going away and killing himself, for which he was profoundly grateful.

Now if he could somehow forestall Col. Mustang's almost certain gruesome death at the hands of his brother, this would be a job well done.

-

So far, Al thought, it was going pretty well. Anyone who was fool enough to even think of mentioning the previous night had been deterred by Ed's glowing amber eyes, which spoke eloquently of bloody murder. Now for Col. Mustang. Al prayed desperately that the man hadn't heard, or would, for once in his life, show some sense or self-restraint...

"Ah, Fullmetal."

"Don't push me today," Ed warned.

"How would I push you?" Mustang blinked guilelessly.

"Like that."

"Well, I hear you had an exciting night." Mustang shuffled papers casually.

"Please for the love of God," Al said fervently.

Mustang coughed. "Well. I have your new assignment."

"Words can't begin to describe my thrill of joy." Ed snatched the folder and browsed through it.

An evil smirk flicked across Mustang's face.

"If you have any love for life or hate of pain," Al pleaded fervently.

"Fine. We'll be on the train tomorrow." Ed turned to leave.

"Oh, by the way, Fullmetal..."

"For the sake of everything good and holy, PLEASE," Al begged.

"Could you possibly sketch me the design of that outfit you had on last night? From what I've heard, it sounds perfect for the new women's uniforms I'll want to implement should I ever become Fuhrer." Mustang gave Ed a smirk that was unnervingly like a leer.

Al threw himself behind a couch.

Ed turned around, very, very slowly.

And leapt for Mustang's throat.

"Lt. Hawkeye, HELP!" Al cried loudly, running out of the office as a duel to the death began in earnest.

(-)


	3. Dr John H Watson

Transplantations, Story 3

Rating: G

Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine, and I have no permission to write about them. As usual. It's not a living. sigh

Series Summary: Stories wherein characters from other universes are integrated into the FMA universe.

Chapter Summary: Ed and Al learn something very interesting about their family history...

Notes: It'll make more sense if you're familiar with the Holmes stories, but it should still be readable either way. Though let me just say right now that Watson's not like he's portrayed in the movies and such. In fact, I think he's a saint for putting up with Holmes for so long. Would you deal so well with a druggie roommate who shot up the walls and faked his own death without telling you-- _twice_? Hence the last line, and the distribution of heritages.

As quick background for those who don't know, Moriarty was a brilliant mathematician and leader of a vast London crime syndicate, who killed Sherlock Holmes by dragging them both over the edge of the Reichenbach Falls. Or so the world thought for a few years...

(-)

3. Dr. John H. Watson

(-)

"Excuse me. I'm looking for Edward Elric?"

Ed turned around to see a kindly-looking older man, hair going gray, slightly stout but vaguely formidible.

"Yes?" he replied.

"Ah, you're him?"

"I guess that'd depend on why you're asking, but-- yeah."

"Excellent. And this is your brother?" The man blinked up at Alphonse. "Quite tall for your age, aren't you?"

"Um, it's a long story," said Al. "I'm Al. Why were you looking for us?"

"Ah." The man coughed. "My name is Dr. John Watson. I was looking for you because-- well. I don't suppose I have as good a reason as I'd like."

"Your name sounds familiar," Al noticed. "Where have I heard it before? Have we met?"

"No, I-- I suppose you've read some of those stories I've written-- good, that will help things tremendously."

"Those detective stories, yeah!" Ed realized. "About that guy, years back. Yeah, I remember! We used to read 'em on weekends when Mom told us not to study so much, remember?"

"That's right!" Al said. "But then why are you here?"

Watson coughed, shuffling around, slightly embarassed. "Well-- as it happens-- I was tracing the family tree of James Moriarty-- you'll recognise the name?"

"That mathematics professor who tried to kill Mr. Holmes?" Al remembered. "The one with the vast and subtle empire of crime."

"Yeah, that's the one," Ed said. "Wait-- and you came to us? You mean Dad, right? That would explain a lot."

"Er, no, actually-- as it happens-- I'd been tracing a younger sister of the Professor's, and-- it really means nothing, genetics and lineage, no matter what Holmes might like to say--"

Ed paled. "You're saying our _mother_--!"

"I didn't even know those stories were real!" Al cried.

"No wonder she didn't like us reading them!" Ed realized.

"But I'm sure it's no reflection on you two," Watson hastily reassured them. "You seem like wonderful children, I assure you, and--"

Colonel Mustang opened the door of his office. "Fullme-- oh, hello, Dr. Watson, what are you doing here?"

Ed gaped for a moment. "You KNOW him!"

Mustang shrugged. "Not particularly well-- he was acquainted very closely with my mother's cousin, I believe, and we've met a couple of times. What brings you here, Dr. Watson?"

Ed gaped at him for a little longer, then put his hand over his eyes.

"Er, just a little research. Roy, isn't it? Lovely to see you're doing so well."

"Thank you," Roy said. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"No, not really," Watson said, "just passing through."

"Well, I'll be in my office, then. Fullmetal, I'd like your report sometime today, if you'd be so kind..."

The door closed, and Ed peeked out through his fingers. "He's related to _Sherlock Holmes_!"

Watson shrugged helplessly. "I'm sorry to bring all this up, I was just making sure-- well. I couldn't find any information on Trisha Moriarty, and I was afraid she might have brought her sons up with the desire to extract revenge. But apparently she'd put the past behind her, as you didn't even know... I am sorry."

"That's... that's all right," said Al, sounding slightly stunned. "We'll, um, call you if we suddenly develop any wild desires to... take over the world, or whatever."

"I'm positive you won't," Watson reassured. "You seem like remarkable young men."

"Come on, Fullmetal," Roy's voice was heard, "time is quite 'short'..."

Ed clenched his fists. "I dunno," he said, "I do at times have a sudden deep desire to shove the nearest Holmes into a waterfall..."

Watson chuckled as he headed for the exit. "My dear boy, then half the world's a Moriarty..."

(-)


	4. Wyld Stallyns

Transplantations, Story 4

Rating: PG, but only for two mild curses and mention of most totally hot babes, so it'd pass for G

Disclaimer: I suppose I could lay claim to Mike and the Church and the Sons of Miktu. Not that I think I'll ever have any reason to. Ed, Al, and Roy are unsurprisingly not mine.

Series Summary: Stories wherein characters from other universes are integrated into the FMA universe.

Chapter Summary: Ed and Al are sent on a journey to find a cult that claims to possess something very like the Philosopher's Stone. Not knowing the name of this cult, they get a little lost...

Notes: I have no idea where this came from. None. But I like it... ; Like always, knowledge of the Bill and Ted movies helps, but I don't think it's entirely necessary. Particularly with this one, where the characters are only referenced indirectly. Just know they were weird-talking California teens in (I believe) an 80's comedy.

(-)

4. Wyld Stallyns

(-)

"Right," Ed said, looking around the town square. "So we're looking for a cult."

"Yes."

"Which no one told us the name of."

"Right."

"Much less the location."

"I know."

"Someday I'm really gonna have to kill him."

"Brother, we've been over this, I can't have you going to jail!"

"Yeah, but if I don't get caught... I won't get caught. So how d'you think one goes about finding a cult?"

Al shrugged. "Stand around on corners looking in need of spiritual guidance?"

"Yeah, I don't suppose we could just say we're looking for a cult, can you take us to their leader."

"You're looking for a cult?" asked a man passing by.

Ed whirled around, half-afraid of a confrontation. "Yeah."

"Those kooks. Couple blocks to the right, place with the poster on the door." The man continued on his way.

"Uh, thanks!" Al called after him.

"...Okay then," Ed said, and led the way down the sidewalk. "See any posters?"

"Uh-- yeah. Wow, that's a strange-looking poster. I think they spelled 'wild' wrong."

"Not to mention 'stallions'. What, don't cults have proofreaders or something?" Ed paused. "Do you think we should knock?"

Al shrugged. "Most churches are always open. Maybe cults follow the same paradigm...?"

"Hell with it." Ed tried the door. It opened. "Okay then."

"Hello, our excellent friends!"

Ed blinked and almost slammed the door shut again. "Excuse me?" he called, poking his head through the door.

"Oh! You must be new! Most excellent!" A man in a shirt that had the same design as the poster on the door put down a large box to shake Ed and Al's hands. "Come on in!"

Warily, Ed did. Al followed, and closed the door behind him.

"So! Have you heard about our most noble society?" the man asked, grinning.

"Uh, no, actually," Ed said, thrown a little, "we were gonna come in here to find out what it's about. Someone said you were a cult?"

"Whoa, that's so totally bogus!" The man made a dismissive gesture. "That's what all those government ugly dudes say. They fear our awesome power. Or, well, we don't really have awesome power right _now_, but we _could_. Come in, sit down, have a cupcake!"

"A...cupcake?" Ed asked, slightly stunned, following the strange man to the chapel.

"Yeah, it's part of our philosophy, dude: Be Excellent to Each Other. Here, eat a cupcake, I'll tell you our story. Oh, dude, do you--"

"No thanks," Al said.

"Righteous." The man went across the room to retrieve a cupcake. Ed turned to Al, and they stared at each other for several seconds.

"Right! I'm Mike, by the way. You guys are?"

"Uh, I'm Ed, and this is my brother Al. So, what is this place?"

Mike beamed. "This is the Church of the Wyld Stallyns!"

"...The what exactly?"

"The Wyld Stallions. See, it all began late one night when the most excellent prophets Bob, Jake and Steve were on their way home from a most triumphant night on the town. And suddenly, a strange glass box did appear from nowhere before their eyes! And they were sore afraid, dude."

'And sauced,' Ed thought to himself.

"And from that box did come four people, who said, 'Most excellent dudes, be not afraid! For we mean no harm, and are merely travelers on a journey to find these most totally hot babes who were kidnapped by an evil king. You haven't seen them around, have you?' And Bob, Jake, and Steve said they had not."

"Okaaaay," said Al.

"And the four travelers asked if they could find a place to crash for the night, and Bob did lead them to his place, wherein they all passed out. And in the morning, Steve did ask, 'Who are you people? And what is this most mysterious glass box that does block the way to Bob's bathroom?' And the four said, 'It is a phone booth.'"

"Right," said Ed.

"And then the four travelers did introduce themselves, and explained that they were from an alternate dimension, and were on a journey to recover their lost bandmates, who also were hot babes. One was a wise old man from their planet's future. One was the Grim Reaper of Souls. And the other two were Bill S. Preston, Esquire and Ted 'Theodore' Logan, of the most excellent band Wyld Stallyns!"

"Wait... did you say the Grim Reaper of Souls?" Ed asked.

Mike nodded. "Bill and Ted had confronted him on their journey, and had defeated him in a most rigorous tournament to earn the right to return to their lives on Earth. So he followed them around a lot. His job was most boring."

"Riiiight," Ed said. "Go on."

"And the travelers did reveal that the music of Wyld Stallions had the power to create harmony within the universe, to enable communication with the stars-- and even with common household pets! They gave us copies of this music..." Mike held up a strange object. "But we're still trying to figure out how to play it. It looks almost like a grammophone record, but it doesn't have any grooves on its surface. It is most perplexing."

"Yeah," Ed said, "I'd imagine it would be."

"And before they returned to their quest, departing our universe in their magical phone booth, they did impart unto Bob, Jake, and Steve the fundamental precepts of peace that can guide our universe into eternal peace and harmony!"

"And those are?" asked Ed.

Mike's face grew deathly serious. "Be Excellent to Each Other," he intoned gravely.

Ed blinked. "Yeah, you mentioned that one."

"And PARTY ON, DUDES!" Mike grinned. "You aren't eating your cupcake!"

Ed hastily took another bite, hoping it didn't contain some sort of hallucinogen. "So-- don't you have some kind of god or something?"

"Nah." Mike shrugged. "We don't care if you believe in a cow goddess from Mars. Anyone who will follow these precepts is welcome here. We believe faithfulness to these two guidelines will create peace and harmony, if they are not only known but acted upon from the heart. So-- we're not too big on dogma."

Ed stopped chewing his cupcake for a moment as he realized that this made a strange kind of sense.

"So? What do you think?" Mike grinned at them expectantly.

Ed swallowed. "Well... In the end it's not any worse than the _other_ religions I've come across..."

"And in a lot of ways, it's actually kind of better," Al opined.

"Yeah, maybe we should actually try that," Ed said, blinking.

"Excellent! All we ask is that people try. Would you like to come to our weekly party tomorrow?"

"Uh, we're kinda just passing through," Ed said, finishing his cupcake. "In fact, I think we're kind of accidentally in the wrong place. You don't happen to have any holy relics at all, do you? Much less the Philosopher's Stone."

Mike blinked. "The Philosopher's Stone? My teacher told me that was a hoax created by medieval dead dudes who were trying to pretend they were better than each other."

"Yeah, that's probably true," Ed sighed. "Anyway, we're supposed to be looking for some cult in town that says they have the Stone and is using it to... something. I can't remember. Did he ever even _say_?"

"Possibly not," Al said.

Mike blinked. "Oh, yeah! I know who you're talking about. Those most repulsive dudes on the other side of town. They call themselves the Sons of Miktu and say it's their destiny to rule the world. They're supposed to have something like that, yeah."

"Excellent!" Ed cried, before he could stop himself. "Yeah, I'm supposed to check that out. Do you know where I can find 'em?"

"Uh--" Mike dug out a few pamphlets and scribbled down an address. "Here, I believe. If you get lost, look for the ugly dudes in black capes."

"Thanks!" Ed shot an honest grin at Mike. "You guys are most excellent. Your kind words and wise precepts shall stay in my mind as I most probably do battle with these Miktu dudes."

"Hey, you're already picking up the lingo!" Mike pulled him into a hug. "Good luck, dude! May the peace of the Wyld Stallyns be with you on your journey."

"Thank you!" Al said, as they went to the door.

Mike picked up his box again. "And PARTY ON, DUDES!" he yelled as they left.

Ed closed the door behind him. "Well. That was weird."

"They really do have a point."

"Yeah, kinda. In a really, really weird way."

"Yeah. It was abnormal."

"Yeah. Let's go get in a fight with those psycho ugly dudes, that'll get things back to normal."

"Lead the way..."

-

"...didn't even recover the STONE and--"

"It was a piece of colored glass!"

"Well, we'll never know _now_, will we?" Mustang glared at him. "AND you threw the city into complete chaos--"

"THEY were the ones who'd wanted to take over, it's not MY fault it just happened to coincide with my arrival!"

"And NOW most of the city leaders are members of something called-- is this a typo?-- the Church of the Wyld Stallyns! And THEY'RE causing trouble! Now what do you have to say for yourself!"

Ed paused, and looked at his brother.

"WELL!"

"Your behavior is most outrageous," Al noted.

"Our actions were most reasonable and our attack on the culter ugly dudes unavoidable," Ed said judiciously.

"The Stallynites will be leaders of much excellence. They have many skills and values."

"And YOU," Ed said, rising, "need to grow up. I didn't do a damn thing wrong and you know it. What you need to learn... are the great precepts of universal peace and harmony as taught by Bill S. Preston, Esq. and Ted 'Theodore' Logan."

Ed walked up to Mustang's desk and caught the Colonel's face between his hands, looking at him with great seriousness and sincerity from three inches away.

Somberly, Ed intoned to the startled, wide-eyed Colonel, the First Precept: "Be Excellent to Each Other."

He kept his hands on Mustang's face for a few more seconds, just to freak him out, and unceremoniously let him go, striding calmly out the door.

"And PARTY ON, DUDES!" the brothers yelled to Mustang's subordinates as they left.

Mustang might have been able to keep up his habitual air of stoicism, even after this, had not everyone in his office immediately begun to cheer.

He spent the rest of the day trying to figure out what in the hell had just happened.

Probably, he knew, he deserved it.

(-)


	5. Arthur Dent

Transplantations, Story 5

Rating: PG-13, language

Disclaimer: Arthur Dent belongs to the highly skilled, inimitable Douglas Adams. Ed and Al don't, and aren't mine either. I'd lay claim to the local police officer if I hadn't totally stolen him from a show I miss very dearly... Same goes for his officers.

Series Summary: Stories wherein characters from other universes are integrated into the FMA universe.

Chapter Summary: Ed and Al experience what may be the strangest day of their lives when asked to babysit a mysterious man with a strange obsession with tea...

Notes: Probably sacrilege, but hey. Never stopped a fic writer before. (smile) It's difficult to remember now (I've been working on this one a while), but I believe this may have originated from a trick Arthur can do, and the thought that Edward was distractable enough to easily do it too...

Like I mentioned, Douglas Adams is inimitable, and I doubt I've done all that good a job of imitating him. This should be readable without prior knowledge of the Hitchhiker's Guide books, but it'll probably make a lot more sense if you've read them. And if you haven't read them, you should get them from the library or something, because they're wonderful!

Thank you to my reviewers, as well! I'd give replies, but that's illegal now, and I'm too scared to read 'em too closely anyways. sweatdrop I will say, for no partular reason, completely generally, that I would probably love to do requests, as I am rapidly running out of ideas... but, in a completely unrelated fact, I know almost nothing about Final Fantasy. Which may or may not stop me. Make of that last sentence fragment what you will. wink

(-)

5. Arthur Dent

(-)

"Look, mister, I don't care where he came from, it's not my problem!"

"Oh yes it is."

"WHY!"

"I have been on the phone with your supervisor, and he agrees that it may be a matter of national security and we simply can't take that chance."

"Mustang, right?"

"The Flame Alchemist, I believe, yes."

"That son of a--"

"Look. Try it with scientific curiosity, okay? The guy appears in the middle of the street in a flash of strange light asking for a cup of tea. You've gotta be curious about why that's happened."

"Yeah, I WOULD be, if it weren't quite so damn obvious that you were just trying to get out of work."

"And why shouldn't we? Do you know how badly we get funded?"

"Ah, God, not this again."

"VERY badly! I can barely even afford to pay my men overtime! Sometimes I can't and I have to personally beg them, in the name of keeping the peace and saving lives, to come in anyway and risk their lives for no pay. And they do. I think for that you can take one cuckoo off our hands. Okay?"

"...That guy out there said you'd had dealings with Mustang before?"

"Yes, several years back, he was sent here to set up a trip for the Fuhrer. We were all promised he'd come. We spent quite a lot of time preparing for it. He backed out, of course, and we damn near had a riot on our hands. Why?"

"Yeah, you're right, you deserve it then. Fine."

Al backed away from the door as Ed yanked it open.

"You been listening?"

"It seemed prudent."

"Well, let's go talk to the guy then." Ed gestured irritably at the local officer, still annoyed at their handing off their work, but grudgingly willing to accept it as going toward equivalent exchange. "Someday I'm gonna stop making up for all of Mustang's sins."

Al blinked and thought about that, because it seemed at first like it shouldn't be true, couldn't be true, because Ed was just being bitter toward the Colonel, but-- when you thought about it, there was quite a bit of plausibility, of legitimacy there, not just a throwaway complaint like usual. Al wondered briefly how much time Ed had devoted to thinking about that.

The officer opened the door to the interrogation room, and was rewarded for his courtesy by Ed's sharp glare. Ed dropped down onto a chair and redirected his glare at the entirely normal-looking man drinking tea across the table.

"This actually is tea," the man said, in a state of astonished bliss.

"What, you thought they'd try to trick you with coffee?" Ed rolled his eyes. Al, judging that the seats were too small for him, stood in the corner, and the local officer stood beside him.

"I haven't had tea in a very long time, you see," the man said, taking another long sip. "I saw it on a menu once, and I ordered it, but it wasn't anything like tea. In fact, it was probably the second least tea-like drink I have ever tasted. But this is actually tea."

Ed stared at him. "Right. Been abroad for a while, have you?"

"Yes," the man said, too absorbed in his tea to be concerned about much of anything.

"What exactly are you doing here?"

"I'm looking for my home," the man said. "But I can never seem to find it. It was demolished, you see, to make way for a hyp-- a bypass. I keep looking for it, but all I can find are places that are-- just a little different. Like, the trees will be too green, or it'll be a rehab colony for Disaster Area roadies injured in on-the-job accidents. The worst was this plan-- place called NowWhat. There were these bloody little animals that--"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Ed interupted.

The man blinked. "Um, what exactly did I say?"

Ed gritted his teeth for a moment. "Okay. New tack. What's your name?"

"Dent," the man said, "Arthur Dent."

"And where're you from?"

"Er..." Arthur said. "Quite a long way from here actually. May I go now?"

"Where. Are. You. From."

"Islington."

Ed stared at him.

"What?"

"Look, I've been all around this damn country on that damn fool's errands, and I've never heard of any 'Islington'."

"Er..." Arthur said. "Would you believe London, then?"

"Or that."

"New York? Berlin? Paris?"

"Now you're just making stuff up."

"The way my life is going," Arthur said heavily, "I see very little need to make anything up."

"How did you get here."

"Er..." Arthur said. "It's quite a long story, really..."

"The flash in the middle of the street?"

"It was the middle of the street, was it? Oh dear."

"How did you get here?"

Arthur shrugged helplessly. "I don't really understand it myself, I--"

"Aw, hell with it." Ed stood up. "We'll just go on and take 'im to Central or wherever, let 'em sort it out for themselves."

"May I still have tea?" Arthur asked.

Ed stared at him. "...Sure, whatever."

"Because I don't mind so long as I can have tea. Do you have any idea how long it's been since--?"

"You got the paperwork?" Ed asked the local officer.

"Right here. He's all yours, sir."

"Wonderful," Ed muttered. "C'mon, Al, let's get going."

"Oh, and also there's a local gang of kidnappers that it would be wonderful if you could help us with."

"I dunno, we kinda have our hands full with this guy."

"He shuts up once you give him tea."

"...We'll think about it. C'mon."

"Please follow me, Mr. Dent," Al said awkwardly, aware that he was supposed to be the "muscle" and having no real idea how to pull off the role.

"May I keep my tea?"

"...Sure."

"All right then." Picking up the tea with his cuffed hands, Arthur followed peacably enough.

"...So you've been looking for your home for a long time, you said?" Al asked as they made their way down the corridors.

"Oh yes. It's quite a long story, you see, it was demolished to make way for a bypass."

"A what?"

"Er, I don't really know, exactly," Arthur said, trying to scratch his head in apologetic perplexity but unable to figure out how to do it without spilling his tea; "it's supposed to help people get from one place to another more quickly or something. Anyway, I was rescued from my plan-- home just before it was demolished by a friend of mine, who was, as it turned out, not actually an out-of-work actor from Guildford as he had previously claimed, but from another-- country, writing a-- traveler's guide. And it got very confusing from there."

"I see," Al lied.

"It was quite awful, really."

"Right. But if it's been demolished, how can you get back?"

"...I thought perhaps I understood it," Arthur said, "but I really don't. I haven't understood anything for-- I believe it may be almost a decade now."

"I'm sorry," Al said.

"Don't be. At least you have tea. This is the nicest place I've been in quite some time."

"It hasn't been at all... fun, or educational traveling to to many places?" Al asked.

"No. Well... There are two things I don't entirely regret. One," he said, "was my girlfriend Fenchurch."

"Fenchurch?"

"It's not because she was found abandoned in a bag in the Fenchurch railway station, if you were wondering."

"Uh..." Al said, not having been wondering.

"It's because she was conceived there."

"..."

"She said that her parents always told her that it was unbelievable just how bored you could get in the ticket queue at Fenchurch station."

"Right," Al said, a little unnerved. "Where is she now?"

"She disappeared," said Arthur.

"What, did she-- run away, was she kidnapped--?"

"No, she entirely disappeared. Erased. As if she'd never existed."

"...How?"

"I've no idea." Arthur paused. "I'm having a pretty bloody time of it, aren't I?"

"...Sure," Al said. "Brother?"

"I'm right here," Ed said, coming back from finishing up the paperwork. "C'mon, let's get out of this place. All this glass kinda freaks me out."

They walked out into the late afternoon sunshine, as Arthur reverently sipped his tea.

"I'm sort of afraid to ask," Al said.

"Hmm?"

"What was the second thing? That you didn't entirely regret?"

"Oh," Arthur said, "learning to fly."

The Elric brothers stared at him.

Arthur didn't notice. "I used to do it on Krikkit all the time... Probably I should've just stayed there, cut my losses..."

"... 'On' Krikkit?" Ed queried.

"In, of course, I mean, in," Arthur said hastily.

"And how exactly did you fly?" Al asked.

"See, it's quite simple if you don't know how to do it," Arthur said sagely. "The trick is falling, and forgetting to hit the ground."

"Forgetting to hit the ground," Ed repeated.

"Yes, I've found that if you distract yourself at just the right moment, you can miss the ground entirely. There's a knack to it. I learned entirely by accident, you see, there was this giant--"

"Right," Ed said, "we should get going. Five o'clock traffic already, damn..." Ed growled at the traffic.

"Where are we going?" Al called, trying to be heard above the noise of the passersby.

"Train station, where else? We've got to get this guy to Central, after all."

"But didn't that guy say something about a kidnapping ring?"

Ed was silent.

"I know you don't like them foisting off their work on you, but I really think they need our help. He seemed like a nice guy, and I don't think he'd just call us in if it wasn't necessary. He didn't seem dishonest or lazy or... brother?"

Al paused, peering through the crowd. "Why haven't you interrupted me yet? Brother?"

Al pushed through the crowd, looking around in every direction. "Brother!"

"Dear lord, he hasn't been kidnapped, has he? That would be so ironic, but I find that life seems to work in--"

Al grabbed him by the chain of his handcuffs and pulled him back toward the police station, ignoring Arthur's cries of protest as he tried to keep his tea from spilling. "Brother! Where are you? Dammit!"

Al burst back through the police starion doors. "Captain!"

The local officer looked up from a file. "Yes?"

"I think my brother was just kidnapped!"

"Dammit!" The captain put the folder down and hurried Al to his office. "This is getting out of hand! How long ago?"

"Just a minute! One second I was talking to him and the next, he was nowhere to be found!"

"You're sure he didn't just get lost in the crowd?"

"He would kill you if he heard you say that-- yes I'm sure! I looked! We've got to find him!"

The captain sat down at his desk and started pulling out files from drawers. "Their M.O. does tend recently to pulling people out of crowds. They incapaticate victims with chloroform and take them to their headquarters. Usually they're hired to do this. They never used to kill any of their victims, but our undercover agent in there says they're now offering the service for an exorbitant additional fee..."

"Where's their headquarters?" Al demanded.

"We don't know, our agent hasn't gotten that far yet. We think somewhere on the West side--"

"Why haven't you arrested these people or something yet!"

"We don't have enough evidence on them," the captain said patiently; "either the victims arranged their own kidnappings or are too traumatized by the experience to want to press charges. That's why we needed your help. We weren't entirely sure what we could do-- but, coincidentally, since there's a new underworld bounty on State Alchemists, we'd considered asking one of you if you'd be willing to go undercover, arrange a kidnapping or be kidnapped, so we could find the goddamn place."

"And now we have," Al realized. "You didn't actually _plan_ this, did--!"

"No, we didn't have time! He'd just barely agreed to maybe help us someday, we didn't have time to figure out how. Even when! And we don't even know why he's been kidnapped."

"You said there was a bounty--"

"Yes, but it's possible it's entirely unrelated. They may have mistaken him for someone else, or had an order to pick up anyone who fit a given description-- in which case, they might not be prepared to have an alchemist on their hands, and we might finally get them--"

Al smiled a wavery, grim grin. "No one yet's ever been able to adaquately prepare for my brother..."

"I hope so." The captain threw on a long khaki coat. "Washington! LaRue! Let's see if we can find these guys!"

"Um... What should I...?" Arthur asked hesitantly.

"Just stay here," Al said, "we'll be back!"

Arthur paused, looking after them as they left.

"It's nice here... but it isn't home. It's nothing like it."

He looked around the hall, at the walls and ceilings.

"And I don't particularly want to be interrogated by the government. But they do have tea..."

Arthur looked to the right, at the tea urn next to the coffeemaker. He looked to the left, at the crowds of yelling people being escorted by officers to the front desk.

Two minutes later, he slipped out of the station carrying the tea urn, while two officers herded in two clowns and five prostitutes who had gotten into a fistfight over the upcoming election.

-

Ed woke to find he was being dragged up a flight of stairs.

"C'mon, we're supposed to nab that other guy by tomorrow! Let's get this shrimp into a cell already!"

Ed resisted the urge to growl and, instead, stealthily brought his other hand up to meet the one he was being dragged by.

"I'm tryin', but the damn midget's heavy! Like he's made of lead or somethin'!"

"Steel, actually," Ed said, and transmuted a blade out of his arm.

The one who wasn't dragging him paled. "Aw hell. Steve, hit the alarm!"

Steve did, dropping Ed, who cursed as he heard the bells ringing through the building. He hit Steve with the flat of the blade before hearing pursuers coming up and down the stairs.

"Hell," Ed hissed, looking around quickly. He saw a door to the right, swiped a keyring from Steve's pocket, and hurried in. He was about to close the door after him when, as an afterthought, he blew a large hole into the left wall as a diversion.

He closed the door behind him and hunted for a lightswitch.

"Is that-- Please, I want to go home!" a young girl's voice cried. "I miss my Mommy, why can't Daddy just see me there!"

"The kidnapping ring," Ed whispered, and cursed as his eyes adjusted to the darkness just enough to see a hallway filled with doors.

"Well. Guess I'll be helping out the captain anyway," he muttered to himself, and hunted furiously for the key to the door behind him as he heard a few of his pursuers begin to get suspicious. "Three A Three B where the hell is it-- oh good God. Edward! Are you an alchemist or not!"

Cursing furiously at himself, Ed clapped his hands and fused the lock. "Must be the goddamn chloroform," he muttered, and hurried to the first cell door.

The little girl inside blinked and stared at him as the door flew open with a spark. "Are you--?

"Come on! We're gonna get out of here," Ed explained, waving her outward.

"You're not--?"

"No! C'mon, we'll find a way out."

"I'm chained to the--"

"Oh. Right. Sorry." Edward hurried over and alchemically detached the chains. "Are there other people in here?"

"I think so, I've heard-- also I think someone upstairs--"

"Wonderful," Ed muttered, and blew open the next door.

"I'm not going to tell you--"

"I don't really care. I'm trying to get everybody out." Ed strode over to the opposite end of the cell and detached the chains as the man tried to squirm away. "There, you see? Come on, eventually they're gonna find a way to get through that door!"

"What-- but how're we going to get out!"

Ed glanced down to the opposite end of the hallway, and hurried to the window there.

"Fire codes," he said, breaking it open.

"There's actually a fire escape--!"

"Of course there is! You're doing something illegal, you can't afford to have some inspector making a surprise visit! Everything's gotta be in order, it's gotta look just like every other office building or apartment building or whatever. See? You guys go on and get out there while I break into the other cells and try to come up with some sort of plan."

"--Okay!" The man lifted the little girl up to the window. "Thank you!"

"Thank me later," Edward said. "Just get out there!" He growled as his pursuers realized the lock was fused and started pounding on the door. "Great, just great-- hurry up!"

There were four more doors left, and he started on the third.

-

"So this is where he disappeared."

"Yes!"

"So where could they have gone? Dammit..." The captain squinted in the dimming light.

"They coulda gone anywhere, Captain," said LaRue, "there's no way to tell."

"Half the city's come down this street just today, Cap'n," Washington agreed. "There aren't any footprints or scuff marks or anything dropped, or anything."

There was a faint sound of an explosion from somewhere to the west, and Al squinted that direction. "But there is a flare. Look!"

The cpatain squinted that direction and immediately spotted the jet of green flames. "Washington! Get some officers out there!"

"You think that's him?" LaRue asked.

"He does," the captain said, jerking his head at Al. "And it's got to be something! Let's go!"

Far south of there, Arthur Dent saw a far different light in the sky to the east. He watched it for a few moments-- then smiled dubiously, and headed east, his urn of tea in tow.

-

"Think that'll work!" the first man Ed had broken out yelled, shielding his eyes from the bright green flames.

"I hope someone's looking for me!" Ed yelled back, above the roar of the alchemical fire. "Should've noticed I'm gone by now! Either way, someone should notice--"

They were distracted by another bang at the rooftop door. "Dammit!" Ed yelled. "You guys should get downstairs, onto the street!"

"They're all down there!" the girl cried, pointing downward. Ed looked over the edge of the roof and saw several suspicious-looking men milling about.

"Dammit! Then why'd those other people go down there!"

"Maybe they weren't there then?" the girl suggested.

"I think some people pay to have this staged!" the man yelled. "I heard someone talking about it!"

"Why the HELL would you want to--"

There was another loud bang at the door. "Maybe the fire escape," Ed said.

"How's that better than here!"

"Uh-- hell--"

"BROTHER!"

Ed's head whipped around and he leaned over the railing, looking down. "AL! Careful, there're kidnappers down there!"

Al saw them a split second after Ed warned them, but being a suit of armor, he didn't particularly care. "Excuse me..." he said, disarming two who were too startled to fight back, and pushed them toward the Captain and his men, who, being more mortal, had ducked behind a car. More criminals followed Al, who ignored them for the moment and ran inside the building, headed for the roof.

At this point, two beat cops and a rickety police car arrived, the reinforcements Washington had called for.

"You're surrounded!" the captain lied. "Drop your weapons!"

Several of the kidnappers did. Two or three needed a little more persuasion, which the beat cops, pulling out their service revolvers, were happy to provide.

"YOU!"

The rooftop door finally burst open, revealing a very large, very angry man who strode over to Edward and grabbed both of his arms before the alchemist could stop him. "What the HELL are you, you little son of a bitch! Years I've been working to build up this thing, and in one afternoon you're gonna screw the whole thing up for me!"

"Let him go!" cried the girl.

"It's not going to do you any good! It's too late," yelled the man. "Surrender quietly and you might get some leniency!"

"Oh, yeah, sure! With all they're gonna have on me when they get to that office! I don't think so!"

The man picked Edward up and held him over the edge of the roof. With his arms held apart, Edward couldn't think of anything to do.

"Like the guy said, I'm goin' down anyway," the man said, a crazy gleam in his eyes. "So why shouldn't I have a little fun before I go!"

"Brother!" Al cried, struggling with two more henchmen to make his way through the door.

"Say goodnight, you goddamn little midget!" the man yelled, and let go.

"MIDGET?"

Edward suddenly remembered his legs were free, and took the opportunity to kick the man where it hurt. "WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SHORT HE COULD WALK UNDER AN ONCOMING CAR! WHO ARE YOU CALLING AN INSIGNIFICANT SPECK OF A DWARF WHO COULD LIVE ON A DUST PARTICLE! WHO ARE YOU CALLING A--"

Each of his sentences was punctuated with kicks and punches, driving the man all the way back to the door. "--TINY BEAN WHO COULD--"

"Brother?" Al said.

Ed stopped kicking the guy and turned to look at his brother. "Hi. What took you so long?"

"Uh, brother, uh..."

Ed wondered why his brother seemed so freaked out. He hadn't beaten up the guy that badly, after all-- had he? He looked back down at the groaning leader of the kidnapping ring, and back at his brother, perplexed.

Suddenly he realized that he was looking into Al's 'eyes'. And more precicely, that his eyes were suddenly at Al's eye level.

"GAH!" he cried, falling a few feet down to the rooftop.

"What the..." whispered the girl.

Down on the streets, the captain and his officers were still staring up at the roof.

"...Was that guy holding that kid off the side of the roof?" an officer asked.

"Yes," said the captain, still staring.

"And did he then-- let go of that kid?" asked LaRue.

"Yes," said the captain.

"Upon which said kid kicked the hell out of him, without-- falling down?" asked Washington.

"It did appear that way, yes."

"Was that alchemy?" asked an officer.

"I don't think so," replied the captain.

"...So what the hell do we put in our reports?"

"...How about we... omit this part for now."

"Yes, sir," the officers heartily agreed, going back to their duties.

-

"It was like that strange guy said," Al said, wide-eyed, "the trick is falling and-- forgetting to hit the ground."

"There has got to be a better explanation," Ed said.

"Any suggestions?"

"...No, not really."

"It makes perfect sense. You were so angry when he called you a midget that you didn't realize he'd dropped you and you just... forgot to hit the ground."

"That can't be what happened."

"Do you have a better theory?"

"...Not yet, no."

"This changes everything. This changes-- the entire world. Our entire understanding of how the world works!"

"Like alchemy isn't magic."

"Shh, we pretend it's a science. But really, this is-- impossible. This means that the world works... completely differently than we thought it did. Brother-- what the hell do we do with this!"

"I have no idea," said Ed, and shushed him as they entered the police station with the captain, the kidnappers, and the several officers it had taken to subdue them all.

Letting his officers take care of the booking, the captain left the front desk and wandered left to talk to the Elric boys, yawning after the long day and longer afternoon.

"So what happened to that weird guy, anyway?" Ed asked.

"We had to leave him here," Al replied. "I'm sure someone had the presence of mind to lock him back up while we were gone."

The captain, knowing that his day wasn't going to end here, glanced at the coffee table. "Huh. That's strange. Somebody stole the..."

He trailed off, staring at the table. "Tea," he finished, and hurried back out the door. Ed and Al got the picture in an instant and hurried after him.

"Dammit!" yelled the captain. "Where would he have gone!"

"If I was a weird guy with a tea obsession, I..." Ed looked around furiously. "I'd... Go toward the strange blue light?"

"Get in the car," the captain said, pulling out some keys and opening the nearest car door.

-

"Hullo," said Arthur, squinting into the bright light that spilled from the doorway of the flying saucer. "Could you by any chance--?"

Two gray aliens in strange conical hats walked out of the saucer and started babbling in a strange language that the fish in his ear didn't translate. "Gabba gabba mook tar!"

"Uh, hello?"

A memory rose reluctantly from Arthur's past, a brief mention of "teasers"-- aliens who went to isolated planets, found poor yokels whom no one would ever believe, and paraded in front of them, making strange noises. All Arthur's memories were reluctant.

"Bloody hell," he muttered. "Look! I'm not from this planet. Could I possibly get a ride from you to the nearest spaceport?"

The aliens blinked rapidly. "You're a hitcher!" one asked, sounding rather tipsy.

"Yes. I'm afraid I've lost my towel; messy situation getting off my last ship, and then my belongings were confiscated by the locals, you see..."

"What's that thing you've got there?" asked the other alien, who sounded completely smashed, pointing at the metal urn.

"Tea," Arthur said brightly, reminded of his blissful good fortune. "A sort of beverage, you see. It's really very good. Would you like to try a little?"

"Not really," the first alien said. "Come on, we can take you as far as Beta Cygnus III."

"That's a spaceport, I take it?"

"Yeah, you can hitch another ride from there. Let's go."

Arthur had begun to follow them in when the captain's car screeched to a halt on the opposite side of the street.

"What the...?" Al, Ed, and the Captain spilled out of the car, and were too distracted by the blue flying saucer to try to apprehend Arthur Dent again.

"Gabba gabba mook tar!" said the aliens, with renewed enthusiasm.

"I'm sorry if this will cause any trouble for you," Arthur said, sounding sincerely apologetic, "but this isn't my home, and I don't belong here. My home probably doesn't even exist anymore, but I have to keep looking. It's-- all I have left. There's nothing else that I can do."

He looked down and walked a few steps up the ramp. "And thank you so much for the tea!"

"Ah, this is lame," said the first alien. "Let's just get outta here."

The second alien drunkenly agreed, and they were up the ramp and into the saucer before anyone could think to stop them. Three engines fired, and the saucer rose up into the sky, quickly becoming a persistent dot of blue among the stars.

"I..." said Al.

"WHAT in the..." said Ed.

They all stood there staring at the blue dot until it finally disappeared.

"...I know a lovely Italian restaraunt," said the captain shakily, "where we can have quite an excellent dinner while we figure out how to lie about this on our respective reports."

"...Perfect," Ed said, and got back into the car.

(-)


	6. Lord John Marbury

Transplantations, Story 6

Rating: PG, a very little mild language, mild licentiousness, and a quick innuendo

Disclaimer: Lord John Marbury is from a West Wing episode, and I'm not Aaron Sorkin. Or Arakawa-san.

Series Summary: Stories wherein characters from other universes are integrated into the FMA universe.

Chapter Summary: Roy is sent on an important diplomatic mission... with a highly-qualified foriegn ambassador who thinks his name is Gerald.

Notes: Stole a lot of lines from the West Wing, but as Sam a character from it himself said, "Good writers borrow from other writers. Great writers steal outright." Not-- that I'm making any claim to greatness. ; Knowledge of the West Wing is not necessary, as we're only dealing with one character who was in three episodes total (unless I missed one).

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6. Lord John Marbury

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"Big news," said Hughes, when Roy finally got to the phone. "They changed their minds. They will send an ambasador."

"Damn," said Roy. "For a second there I thought you were saying I could go home."

"Sorry," Hughes said, remarkably unapologetically. "Anyway, he's going to be--"

"'He'? Damn." Roy looked out the train window as he sat down in front of the operator's desk, the operator having cleared out to make room for the official military business.

"What, you were hoping for a woman!"

"Some of us are still single, Hughes, difficult as that might be for you to process. Forgive me for being unattached."

"Yeah, but still, you'd hardly want to be distracted at this kind of negotiation..."

"I assure you I am perfectly capable of flirting and completing work at the same time. In fact, sometimes there's hardly any difference."

"Riiiight. I'm not gonna think about what that says about our diplomatic corps. But anyway--"

"Maybe I should get a job like that," Roy mused. "An ambassadorship, somewhere with beaches..."

"And, of course, women in skimpy bathing suits."

"Of course. Otherwise, what would be the point?"

"Riiight. Fortunately for our country, you have too much ambition to be satisfied with an ambassadorship for long."

"You are, of course, saying it's fortunate because my amazing skills are desperately needed domestically." Roy polished his nails on his shirt-jacket, a faint smile on his face.

"No, it's fortunate because I like not being at war."

"You're saying I can't be diplomatic!"

"No. Of course you can be diplomatic. But you scare me when you're diplomatic. And tactful. You never used to be tactful. You used..." Hughes broke into a convenient coughing fit.

Roy decided he didn't want to press the issue. "Speaking of tactlessness, how's Fullmetal doing, have you heard?"

"Ah, last time I got a report, he had run into the first of the five things you didn't tell him about. Literally. But we think he was mostly uninjured."

"Wha-- oh, run into. I see." Roy paused. "How'd he manage to do that?"

"Well, think about it, it would be pretty easy if you didn't know about it. Especially if you also didn't know the second, fourth, and fifth things you didn't tell him."

Roy considered this. "True."

"Someday you really are going to have to tell him more things. Do you honestly think he wouldn't be able to do the missions if he didn't know?"

"I have reasons."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Which reminds me, if I were you, I'd be very, very careful next time Edward comes to give you a report. In fact, this incident is probably a blessing in disguise. It'll give Alphonse more time to convince him not to kill you."

"And he'll need it."

"Exactly." A pause. "Dammit, there was something I was going to tell you, except you kept interrupting me."

"Sorry," Roy said, remarkably unapologetically.

"Oh! Right. The ambassador will be meeting you at the next station."

"What!"

"It's convenient, and the only way you two can get there at the same time. Don't ask why that's important, it's all ridiculous PR things..."

"Don't tell me. We'll be sitting in the same compartment."

"Well, shouldn't you? This isn't exactly a trip to the beach, you know..."

"Yes... I know."

"...You think you'll be able to stop them?"

Roy sighed and leaned back against the wall. "Stop them from what? There are so many things. I doubt we can stop them from hating each other; at the very least, you'll have to give me more time for that..."

"Stop them from declaring war."

"...Maes, I'll consider it a victory if we can stop them from killing each other after we walk in the door. I'll consider it a victory if everybody who walks into these negotiations walks out again alive. To dissuade them from this war... it may be too much to ask."

"They really hate each other that much?"

"Yes. And I'm hoping..."

"What?"

"That it will stay between them."

"You're afraid we'll get dragged into it!"

"I'm afraid that everyone will get dragged into it. You know all those secret treaties..."

"But they wouldn't adhere to them if it really meant war..."

"Richard's crazy enough, and if he goes in..."

"...Then his allies will take it more seriously, and his enemies will flock to the other side..."

"Trying to defeat him by proxy, at first, until someone launches a direct attack... It would only take one, Maes. We've all gotten ourselves so tangled up in treaties and intrigues and secrets that one false move..."

"...Nobody's really that crazy. I'm sure you can talk some sense into them."

"Yeah," said Roy, wishing idly that he believed it.

"Besides, anyone who can handle _Edward_ without destroying the world..."

Roy laughed. "You may have a point. So who's the other ambassador?"

"Oh! That's the other thing I was going to tell you, except you kept interrupting. It's Lord John Marbury."

"It's WHAT!"

"Lord John Marbury. You know he's qualified--"

"He thinks I'm the butler, Maes!"

"Well, if _I'd_ only seen you while you were sucking up to the higher-ups, I would too."

"He thinks my name is Gerald! The man's a quack, he's psychotic!"

"And the world's foremost foriegn expert on--"

"I don't care how much he knows about them, it doesn't help if he's also insane!"

"He has quirks."

"He belongs in an institution."

"He's colorful."

"He's a lunatic!"

"Well, you should be used to working with lunatics by now. There's really not a thing you can do about it."

"I could throw myself off the train."

"Go ahead. I could hardly stop you from here."

"...Shut up."

"Seriously, he's not that bad."

"I can't believe they're setting him loose on the world. I mean, there are guns, alcohol, women--"

"Well, we can hide the guns and women, but working with you for an indefinite period? I think the man deserves a drink."

"Shut up."

"You really can't stand him, can you?"

"Did you hear the part about him thinking my name is Gerald?"

"Yes."

"And we've met before. More than once."

"So he's not good with names."

"Wonderful trait in an ambassador."

Hughes sighed. "Well, play nice with him! 'Cause like I said, I'm personally very fond of not being at war."

"Yeah. Me too." Roy paused. "So how's Elicia doing?"

"She's--" Another pause. "Roy, are you okay?"

"What?"

"I mean, are you sick or something? Are you really going to throw yourself off the train?"

"What!"

"Roy, I know I have my blind spots, but I know damn well nobody ever asks about my family. They just wait for me to tell them."

"I suppose I just... wanted to talk about something. Wanted to hear about them."

"You know, you should really settle down--"

"Maes--"

"Gracia has a few friends--"

"Maes!"

"Or if suddenly that's not your style, I'm sure I could find--"

Roy slammed the phone down as he heard the train begin to slow.

"Wonderful," he sighed, and stayed in the chair for another few moments, gathering his strength.

The train slowed to a stop, and Roy wearily rose from his seat, making his way toward the doors.

"Excuse me, ah, excuse me-- ah, hello! You'll be wanting my ticket--"

The dark-haired man moved with a sort of abrupt, fidgety grace, fumbling through his pockets for a ticket.

"No," Roy said, "I'm Colonel Roy Mustang."

"Ah, yes! I was supposed to meet with you. Lord John Marbury." The older man beamed and stuck out a hand.

"Yes," Roy said, shaking it gingerly, "we've met. Four or five times now."

"...Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you were the butler."

"Yes," Roy said, teeth gritted, "I know."

"We have quarters on this train, I presume?"

"Yes," Roy answered. "It's quite a long journey."

"Is it now."

"I don't know where you were assigned; you'll have to check the ticket."

"Yes, for having served as Ambassador to three countries and our Queen's Cambria liason for many years, I am--as you know-- exceedingly naive about travel. Ah, here we are." Marbury handed his ticket to the porter.

Roy closed his eyes in despair.

"You look a little pale, don't you? Or perhaps you always look like that."

"I... don't suppose I'd know."

"D'you think you're coming down with something?"

"It would be a very inconvenient time for it."

"You know, there are some excellent cold remedies down in the subcontinent... ginger root, orange juice, and a shot of whiskey... or licorice, cinnamon and a shot of whiskey... Of course, you can leave out the licorice and cinnamon and still be well on your way..."

Roy couldn't help chuckling. "I'd imagine."

"You're frightened, aren't you, Gerald?"

Roy blinked at him, startled, wondering how the hell a man who thought his name was "Gerald" could read him so clearly. "Yes," he admitted.

"Well, you should be. Their religious malevolence is of a type that hasn't been seen on the Western Continent for centuries. Discounting, of course, your little dalliances with the Ishballans."

"That's hardly 'malevolent'... 'Psychotic' I'd accept, 'perverse' or 'pointless', but not 'malevolent'..."

Marbiry smiled, seeming almost surprised. "True enough. Still, their hatred of each other would seem insurmountable to a lesser observer."

Roy raised an eyebrow, waiting quietly for a punchline.

"However, as has been acknowledged by kings and queens, and fuhrers for that matter-- I am not a lesser observer."

Roy smirked. "Is that so. Then what do you make of it?"

Marbury looked at him soberly, a very unusual adverb for him. "It will take work. And we may not succeed. But there's more than a chance. We shall prevail-- unless of course I die, in which case, uh, you're quite screwed."

Roy shook his head. "Don't think much of yourself, do you?"

"I'm working on my problem with low self-esteem. You were thinking it might be hopeless, weren't you?"

"The thought had crossed my mind," Roy admitted.

"Hmm. Thank god you sent for me."

"Should we begin comparing notes now? Before we save the world?"

"Mm, yes, probably so I'd imagine. Do we have a secure compartment somewhere?"

"Yes."

"Good, then. Lead the way, Gerald." He started fumbling through his pockets. "Oh, but if you want to save the world..."

"Mm-hmm?"

He produced a slightly battered pack of cigarettes. "I shall require a light."

Roy smirked and stretched a gloved hand behind him, calmly producing a steady lighter-flame.

"Ah, excellent!" Marbury lit the cigarette and took a first long drag. "I think we'll work marvelouslly together."

"Yes," Roy said, very slightly amazed, "maybe we will."

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